Just a Little Jerimiz
by Dashing Golden Dreams
Summary: Jerimiz, Mizicho, Chrismiz, whatever you call it. A painful loss for Jericho is soothed by a rendezvous with a man he's missed for a long time. Slash, obvs. Written a long time ago.


Chris Jericho sat backstage, dejected. He held his golden-haired head in his hands, wondering how he could have let this happen. He'd let his partner down. He'd let his fans down. But most painfully of all, he'd let himself down. A solitary tear slipped through his eyelids and rolled down his flushed cheek. He was so angry with himself he could have punched a locker hard enough to dent it. But there were no lockers here. This wasn't the WWE. Losing didn't hurt this much in the WWE, because at least you knew it was going to happen. He hadn't been satisfied with his performance the night before, but he didn't think it was all going to end right here. Apparently, America had other plans, and the team of Chris Jericho and Cheryl Cole had just been voted off _Dancing with the Stars._

He never wanted to hear another Journey song as long as he lived.

A knock came at his dressing room door. "Chris? Chris, can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Chris said. The beautiful dancer who'd taught him so much came into the room and gave him a big hug. "I'm sorry, Cher."

"Hey, don't do that," Cheryl said. "Don't beat yourself up over this. You did great."

"Great's not good enough," Chris said. "I didn't come here to do great. I came here to win."

"Oh, Chris. I told you from day one, winning isn't everything."

"Yeah, winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters." He sighed. "I'm sorry I'm being such a baby. It's just that, I'm used to being the best at everything I do. Now I'm losing out to a Playboy bunny and the fabulous dancing hippo."

"Hey, that's not nice. Kirstie's lost a lot of weight."

Chris sighed again. "Sorry. If I don't make jokes, I break down, you know that."

"Hey," Cheryl said, a light in her eyes. "I almost forgot. I found somebody hanging around backstage looking a little lost... I think he's one of your wrestling buddies. Maybe he can cheer you up better than I can."

"Who is it?" Chris asked.

"I forget the name, it's something real cute... tall kid, funny hair, really blue eyes... I think he was on MTV or something once?"

It couldn't be. No way.

"The Miz?" Chris barely dared to whisper.

"Yeah, that was it! You didn't see him in the audience? He was kind of hard to miss, as tall as he is."

"I must not have been paying very good attention." Chris was smiling. In fact, he almost had to hold back his smile – his mood just did a complete 180°. He'd had no idea who would've showed up from the WWE: they were all so busy all the time. But this… this was just what he needed. He'd been needing this for quite some time. "Where is he?"

"I'll go get him. And Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"There's nothing wrong with a man crying, I just wanted to let you know."

"I wasn't crying," Chris protested.

"Right," Cheryl said. "I just wanted you to know if you need to cry, it's okay. And call me any time you want to. You've got my number. It's really been great working with you and I'm... I'm really gonna miss you." She started choking up herself. Chris hugged her.

"Don't worry about me, okay, Cher? I'm fine. You really made me feel a lot better. Thank you. I'm sure I'll see you again. My band's going on tour in a few weeks... maybe you can find the time to come out to a show."

"Thanks, Chris. For everything. I'll go find your Miz." She took off.

_My Miz, huh?_ Chris thought. He chuckled to himself. Cheryl had no idea how appropriate that was.

Mike Mizanin leaned against a wall backstage at the DWTS studio, trying to blend in and failing epically. He was having one of those moments where he wasn't sure what to feel, happy that he was going to be seeing Chris for the first time in months or sad because of the results of the evening. Being unsure of anything made Mike extremely nervous, and nervousness and inconspicuousness typically don't go together— so much jittery energy was radiating off him it would have set off a Geiger counter. He waved at a few people he sort of knew: he wouldn't call himself an A-list celebrity, but he'd been around. He saw Cheryl approaching him through the crowd. Sometimes it was handy being on the tall side: it made it easier to keep track of people when you could see over everyone's head.

"Chris is in the second dressing room down the hall," she said. She lowered her voice. "I think he's been crying, but he won't admit it. He seemed to perk up when I mentioned you, though. Try to cheer him up."

"I'll do my best," Mike said. It took all the willpower he had to keep from sprinting down the hall, throwing the door open and hugging Chris so hard he squeezed the life out of him. He really hoped Chris wasn't in one of his "don't-talk-to-me" moods. They had so much to catch up on. Mike had really missed his mentor, his friend, on more than one occasion his lover... his Chris. Mike found the door with Chris's name on it and knocked lightly.

"Come in," Chris's voice sounded from inside. Mike opened the door. Chris was sitting in a chair, looking sort of distant. Mike bit his lip. Maybe it was a bad time after all.

"Hey," Mike said cautiously.

"Hey," Chris said back, very calmly. He got up and gave Mike a hug. "How have you been?"

"All right," Mike said. "Um..."

"Look, you don't have to say anything," Chris said. "I did my best, America voted, it is what it is."

"Chris, you were amazing. We all voted for you, believe me."

"I know. I wouldn't expect my family to let me down." He smiled. "Everyone still misses me, right?"

"You bet," Mike said. "Especially me."

"I've missed everyone too," Chris said. "Especially you." For the first time, Mike noticed his expression. He didn't look like a man who'd just lost a major televised dancing competition. There was something else in his eyes. "So... when do you have to leave?"

_Never_, Mike wished he could say. "Not till tomorrow night. Why, did you have something in mind?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively. That was all Chris needed to push Mike up against the door and devour his sweet, full lips. Mike melted at the warmth of Chris's body (still in his dance costume, which didn't seem weird — it wasn't too different from ring gear.) Chris kissed him with such a raw hunger it felt like he was going to eat him alive. They hadn't seen each other in a very long time, but Mike remembered every single time Chris had kissed him, and he had never, ever kissed him like this. It had been passionate at times, but usually sweet and gentle... never this... _primal_. It was almost frightening, but it was wonderful.

"Oh, I have something in mind," Chris said, his voice deepened with desire. "I've had something on my mind for a long time. Come back to my hotel with me?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Mike joked. "Are you gonna order us room service?"

Suddenly Chris realized the hunger he was feeling wasn't just metaphorical. "You know what? I think we should go out for dinner. I need some comfort food. And before you say anything, I'm paying."

"Chris, you deserve to be treated," Mike said.

"Oh, don't worry," Chris said. "I'll get my treat later."

"You know, I'm not too upset that I got voted off anymore," Chris said. He and Mike were seated in a cozy booth in the corner of the main dining area of the Olive Garden. They almost seemed out of place there: in their designer clothes with the aura of success that you could almost smell on them (or maybe that was just the combination of Chris's Armani Code and Mike's Acqua di Gio), they seemed like they should be doing a cover shoot for GQ, not chowing down on breadsticks in a moderately priced chain restaurant.

"Why's that?" Mike said.

"When you're trying to be a dancer, you have to eat like a dancer eats. Which is different from how a wrestler eats and _definitely_ different from the standard diet of your average rock singer."

"I can tell," Mike said. "I mean, look at you! Dancing must be a helluva better workout than I thought it was."

"It's tough," Chris said. "I mean, you're not landing on your spine or getting whacked in the cranium with a chair, but it's just constant motion. It's a cardio workout, really." He paused. "Maybe I'd better explain myself. You see, 'cardio' is when you... hey!" Mike had just smacked him in the cheek with a breadstick.

"I don't need it from you," Mike said in a tone that made it hard to tell if he was genuinely wounded or just a little peeved. "I get it from Dolph and Johnny and hell, even Ryder anymore."

"Oh, Mike, it's all in good fun. It's not like anyone actually thinks you're out of shape or anything."

"Except me," Mike pouted. He pushed away his chicken Parmesan.

Chris realized he'd hit a sore spot. "Michael, don't. You know better than to let guys like Nick or Matt get to you, they're always clowning. And Johnny just likes to get you riled up."

"You've got a point," Mike said. "And it works. He gets me all mad and then he just gives me that look and goes 'Uh oh... am I in trouble?'" Mike said it with a perfect replica of Johnny's "I been a bad, bad boy" look on his face. "And dammit, he KNOWS when he does that it just makes me want to..."

"Restaurant," Chris reminded him quickly. Sometimes life imitated art, or maybe the other way around: just like his on-screen Miz persona, Mike had no qualms about saying, well, basically anything that came to mind, and it could get him into a world of trouble.

"Well... you know what it makes me want to do."

"He learned that from you, you know that," Chris said, "getting someone all hot at him so he could play the naughty little puppy. Don't think I don't remember. You used to take the piss outta me all the time."

"Not all I took out of you," Mike said slyly.

"Michael! _Restaurant!_" Dammit, why did Mike always have to do this! It wasn't even so much that people would hear what they were saying: it was just that all his innuendos and double entendres coupled with that soft, seductive purr he had (why Mike always had to play the loudmouth on TV Chris never really understood; his voice was just as powerful, perhaps even more so, when he was quiet)—well, all of that did things to Chris. Things that might make people wonder if he'd taken one of the restaurant's famous breadsticks and attempted to smuggle it out in his slacks. Like anyone else with an attraction to men who had to make his living in close proximity with their shirtless, sculpted forms, Chris had learned the art of taming his trouser snake long ago, but Mike was different. He just didn't play fair. He teased Chris and hit him with those little off-the-wall comments and made eyes at him until Chris absolutely couldn't stand it. It wasn't like Chris was the only one Mike flirted with, nor had he ever been, but he was one of the few for whom it meant something more than just Mike being Mike. Johnny Hennigan was another. Mike had made it no secret from the time they first tagged together that he wanted Johnny badly, and to his delight Johnny had been more than eager to do anything he wanted. At times Chris joined in on their fun, but mostly he just left them to their own devices. Mike was used to being the dominant partner anyway. With his attitude and build – he wasn't heavy or stocky, but he wasn't exactly a delicate little pixie either— it sometimes surprised people to find out he was even capable of playing the other side of the fence. Then again, anyone who'd ever seen Mike's ass, whether bare, in wrestling gear or in regular pants, had plenty of reason to at least hope he was...

"Chris? Ya with me?" Mike was poking him in the arm.

"Ah! Um... yeah. What?" Chris was confused. He'd been lost in reminiscence. "What happened with the breadsticks?"

"They're right here," Mike said.

"Yeah, but there weren't any. Now there's a whole bunch."

"Um, that would be because the waitress brought us more," Mike informed him.

"Wow. She must have some mad ninja skills. I didn't even see her."

"Yeah, but she saw you staring into space. I think she probably thinks you're stoned now." Mike chuckled. "Imagine that, a rock star taking drugs! Unthinkable."

"Ha ha. Cute. Two out of three vices are enough for me."

"Thought you quit smoking."

"Cut down a lot. I hardly ever have a cigarette anymore. Only when I need to de-stress."

"So you'll probably be having one tonight?" Mike said, a bit downcast. He hated when the smell of smoke messed up that perfect Chris smell. It wasn't like it completely ruined everything, but it was a bit of a turnoff.

"Nah. I know how you feel about it. Besides, I can think of a lot of better and healthier ways to relieve stress."

"Such as?" Mike asked, though he was sure he knew the answer.

"Well, a swim, for one," Chris said.

Mike raised one eyebrow at him like the Rock. "A swim? Really? Really, Chris?"

"Well, sure. A nice, relaxing swim back at the hotel... it's open all night. There's a hot tub, too." He smiled. "And who in their right minds would be in a hot tub in the middle of the night?"

Mike returned his smile. "Who indeed?"

It turned out Chris and Mike weren't the only people not in their right minds at midnight that night. "Every time! Every single time I want to get in a hotel hot tub this happens," Mike said, drying off from their swim.

"What, there's somebody in it?"

"No, there's an old fat guy with back hair in it. Every single time. I swear it's the same guy! He must follow me from hotel to hotel with the sole purpose of preventing me from soothing my aching muscles. I mean, if he knew how hard guys like you and I work every day... the most work he did today was dragging his gigantic ass from his hotel room down to the pool, I can guarantee you that." Mike huffed.

"Having a drama queen moment?" Chris teased.

"So what if I am?" Mike shot back, and stuck out his tongue. Then he turned around to get something out of the coin-operated locker - a costly mistake, as Chris pulled the oldest move in the locker room and snapped him in the ass with a wet towel. "OW! Christopher!"

Chris laughed. "That ought to _snap_ you out of it," he joked.

"Not funny," Mike pouted. "That's going to leave a welt. OW! Really?" he shouted, as Chris hit him again on the other butt cheek.

"There, now they match," Chris said.

"So will your black eyes, if you don't cut it out," Mike warned him.

"Do you actually think you scare me?"

"Honestly? No. But it was worth a try." Mike rubbed his butt. "Owie. You're so mean sometimes."

"Aww... poor baby. C'mere." Chris beckoned to him. Mike reached out for a hug, which Chris returned. "I'm sorry, Mikey. Here, I'll make it all better." He squeezed Mike's ass softly, his hands slipping down the waistband of the dark blue Hawaiian flower-print swim trunks.

"Chris..." Mike tried to protest, but he only started squeezing harder, kneading the soft yet firm flesh... "Chris, anyone could walk in right now, you know that."

Chris chose to ignore him. "God, I've missed this," he whispered in Mike's ear, which he then started to nibble on.

"What, tormenting me?" Mike joked.

"Well, that too," Chris admitted. "But what I meant was, I've missed _this._" He gave Mike's butt a firm squeeze. Just then the fat, hairy guy from the hot tub walked into the locker room. He took one look at the position Chris and Mike were in and waddled past them as fast as he could, whistling some indeterminate tune. "Okay, maybe we _should_ get up to the room," Chris said.

"Geez, ya think?" Mike said.

"Don't get smart with me," Chris said. "I've still got the towel."

They were in such a hurry to get up to the hotel room they didn't even bother to put on shirts; they knew they'd be coming off anyway, and it wasn't like the lobby was packed with guests, since it was past midnight. They did get a few looks from the hotel staff, especially the females, but that was to be expected for two attractive men in just jeans and sneakers. Chris hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside door handle, Mike set his bag down and took off his shoes, and the minute he stood up Chris knocked him onto the bed with a spear that would have made Edge proud. Before Mike could complain about the surprise attack, his mouth was invaded by Chris' tongue, an intrusion he didn't mind in the least. The passion with which Chris kissed him was so intense it was almost a tangible thing, like an electrical current flowing between them. Chris' fingers tightened, pulling gently at the back of Mike's hair, which was standing out every which way from the combination of pool water and gel he looked different, perhaps even sexier, without his signature fauxhawk. He bit Mike's lip just hard enough to make the younger man squeak and taste iron, but without drawing blood. Finally, breathlessly, they parted.

"What's gotten into you?" Mike said when he could speak again.

"I missed you," Chris said simply.

"Well, I missed you too, but..."

"You don't get it. You had Johnny. All I had were memories." He looked at Mike with fire in his eyes. "I only get you for tonight. I want all of you. I want to possess you, I want to _own_ you, just for one night. Make you forget everything but the name you're screaming so loud you knock the ice out of the machine down the hall." He was breathing heavily. "God, you don't know how bad I've been craving you."

"Oh, God, Chris..." Mike was almost at a loss for words. He knew what it was like to be desired— he was the Chick Magnet, after all, and a fair number of guys found him pretty magnetic as well— but the way Chris seemed to need him, like a junkie needing a fix... that was not only extremely hot, but very familiar. "I've wanted you... needed you for so long too. The things you do to me... you give me what Johnny can't give me. What nobody else can give me."

"Nobody? After all this time..."

"After all this time, the only man who's been inside me is Christopher Irvine," Mike purred in his ear. "And I've been dying to have that big dick inside me again for _months._" Chris' cock was already standing at attention just from having Mike near him; when Mike kissed his neck, grinding his own erection into him, it made him throb almost painfully. He had to get out of the jeans that felt like a prison, but there was no way he was going to be the first one naked. He was already so turned on by a shirtless Mike, that smooth, creamy skin... he couldn't resist, he had to do it, consequences be damned. He kissed Mike right where his neck met his shoulder, in that hollow above his collarbone, and then sucked hard on the skin, leaving a rosy mark that would surely fade to a purplish hickey. "Chris!" Mike gasped.

"Oh, relax, Mikey," Chris said, undoing Mike's jeans and sliding them off his hips. "It'll fade before Monday. You're damn lucky I don't leave them all over your body. Show everyone who you belong to." Mike had still been wearing his swim trunks under his jeans (they were short enough to be boxers) and the dark blue fabric was straining. Chris slipped the trunks off and there beside him was a fully naked Mike, his beauty completely exposed. Chris took a moment to admire his lover, while holding his wrists down against the bed. Mike wasn't touching himself tonight, oh no... at least not unless Chris said he could. "Mmm. So sexy... all for me. What am I gonna do with this sexy man, huh?" He ran his fingers oh, so gently up and down Mike's sides. Mike's skin tightened into gooseflesh and his perfectly pink nipples got all pointy and hard. Chris" tongue flicked out and just barely touched Mike's nipple... now that wasn't fair. He'd been the one all eager and ready to go, and now he was teasing? Really? Mike would have none of that. He rubbed against Chris, trying desperately to give him a hint. "Ooh, somebody's all horny," Chris breathed. "You need something, baby?"

"Something... anything," Mike said. "Touch me... suck me... fuck me... leave bite marks, bruises, whatever, I don't care. I need you so bad, Chrissy."

"God, Mikey, you are so hot," Chris said. "Look at you. JoMo and Ziggler are both gonna burn in hell for calling you chubby. You're _perfect._ You've been working out since I left, haven't you?"

"No more than usual," Mike said modestly.

"Look at these biceps! Damn, baby, does Animal Control know you've got these pythons?" Chris said, squeezing his arms.

"Chris... stop teasing," Mike begged.

"Make me," Chris said. "It's all of you I want, Mikey, not just the sex... your whole body is so beautiful... just wanna play with you all night." He felt Mike's thighs. "Oh fuck... these sexy legs..."

"Stupid fat tree trunks," Mike pouted. Chris flicked him on the nose. "Ow! What'd you flick me for?"

"For that remark. Nobody insults what's mine. Not even you. And your legs are not fat. They're strong and powerful and beautiful just like the rest of you. You know what I like best about them, though?"

"What?"

"I like the part where they go from your tight, solid calves..." Chris squeezed and fondled as he went up... "to your sexy thighs... and then they make an ass out of themselves."

Mike groaned. "Christopher. Stealing lines from Lawler does not earn you brownie points in the bedroom."

"Will this earn me brownie points?" Chris said, and wrapped his fingers tightly around Mike's cock. Mike didn't need to answer with words: the gasp and soft moan were enough. Chris squeezed him as he ran his thumb over the tip, smearing the drop of precum that had formed there. "Hmm? Is that good, huh? Mikey likey?" He chuckled at his own silly rhyme.

"Yes," Mike said breathlessly. "Mikey likey a lot. Ohh... Chris, I want you in me so bad..."

"Wanna suck you first... that OK?" Chris said. Mike nodded vigorously. Was it OK? Mike had to wonder if any man now living had ever turned down a blowjob; he knew he certainly wasn't one to do so. And with Chris, he knew exactly what he was in for. Chris' mouth was good for a lot more than calling people hypocrites and belting out heavy metal. His tongue snaked out and licked all the way from the base to the tip, running along that sensitive vein and making Mike twitch. He put his lips around the head, holding Mike's hips to keep him from thrusting up into his mouth. Mike moaned and squirmed, wanting more. Chris couldn't help teasing... he loved to watch Mike writhing on the bed, wanting, needing, begging. The little whines and moans he made were so delicious, Chris didn't want them to stop any time soon. He wanted to draw this out. But at the same time, his aching cock was encouraging him to speed up the process.

Ever so slowly, Chris took him further into his mouth, feeling him twitch between his lips, running his tongue all over like it was a popsicle on a hot summer's day. Chris would probably never admit it, but Mike had a feeling he liked giving head almost more than getting it, even if it was just to get Mike to make those sounds... he was really worked up now, sounding almost animalistic. Another case of life imitating art: Mike was as much a bigmouth in bed as he was on the mic. They'd probably get complaints at some point during the night. Chris didn't care. Hearing and seeing his boy lose control of himself was totally worth it, and totally turning him on. The younger man was putty in his hands… or in his throat at this point, as Chris did his best to suppress his gag reflex and take as much of Mike's rather big cock into his mouth as he could. His eyes watered and he gagged just a little, which elicited another moan from Mike as Chris' throat tightened around him. Chris barely had to move before he heard Mike's breathing get shallower. Knowing what that meant, he pulled his mouth off, making a wet *pop* noise. "Fuck… Chris, I was so close," Mike said, flushed and breathless like he'd just had a match.

"Not yet, love," Chris said. He had a smirk on his face. Mike hated this game, but loved it as well. He hated it because Chris was a big old tease who gave him blue balls so bad it almost made him cry. He loved it because when he finally did get to cum, it was so much more intense. "Oh, shit," Chris suddenly said.

"What?" Mike said, still breathing hard.

"I am the biggest damn idiot on the planet."

"Well, I knew that." Mike earned a light slap upside the head for that one. "What?"

"This fucking sucks," Chris said. "I don't have anything. Rubbers, lube… I'm totally not prepared here."

"Wow, you fail at life, Chris," Mike said. "Fine, I guess I'll just have to save your ass. Or, well, my ass in this case." He got into his bag and whipped out a small tube. "Strawberry."

"You know me so well," Chris said. He loved anything strawberry flavored. "Condoms?"

"Chrissy… can we do it without one?" The question took Chris by surprise; they'd always used one before. But he didn't really think they needed to… they'd both been tested for everything in the book, and it wasn't like they were a couple of sluts. Johnny was the only other guy Mike had been with in the past several years, and Chris hadn't been with anyone besides Mike (and Johnny on occasion) since they'd been working together. He had what qualified as a colorful past, but he knew he was clean, and so did Mike.

"You really okay with this, Mikey? Or did you just forget the rubbers?"

"Well… I kinda forgot them on purpose. It's been too long… I wanna feel you, Chrissy." Damn those big blue eyes. The things Mike could get him to do with a look... the boy was so irresistible, with that impish grin that just had mischief written all over it. He was like a little boy who showed up at the dinner table with a frog in his pocket. Chris couldn't help but imagine that Mike had been the kid who pulled the pigtails of the girl in front of him, and then fooled the teacher with a look so innocent it was angelic. It wasn't that Mike wasn't an angel… just an angel with horns. A horny angel? Well, that too.

"Michael… that means a lot to me, you know. That you trust me."

"Just don't get me preggers," Mike joked.

"Oh, shut up, you. You've been reading too much fan fiction."

"Hey, if I could get pregnant, I'd only want to do it with you."

"Let's not talk about this anymore," Chris said. "It's creepy."

"Yeah, kind of," Mike said. "So… back to the topic at hand." He kissed Chris. "God, I've been wanting to do this forever."

"Baby… you couldn't have made me happier. I'm going to make you feel so good." Chris took the translucent pink, strawberry stuff and put a bit on his finger, licking it off. "Mmm. Tastes like a fresh strawberry!"

"It doesn't have seeds in it, does it?"

"Geez, do you ever shut up?" Chris joked.

"Maybe if you put something in my mouth…"

"I've got other plans for you," Chris said, rubbing the cool strawberry lube over Mike's entrance. Mike hissed.

"Cold," he whined.

"Don't be a baby," Chris said. "God, that strawberry stuff is too yummy..." That gave him an idea. He spread Mike's cheeks and tongued him gently. "Mmm. Strawberry and Mikey, my two favorite flavors."

"Fuck… oh god Chris… feels so good…" Mike moaned as Chris licked and poked his tongue into him. "Chrissy… please… need something bigger…" Chris squeezed more of the lube onto his fingers. He inserted one, then two… Mike bucked his hips… he wanted more. Chris started to gently scissor him, stretching him out a bit… it had been a long time, and this being their first time doing bareback, he wasn't going to take any chances. "Ohh… Chris, please, I want your cock inside me…"

"Just warming you up. It's been a while… don't want to hurt you."

"Don't care if it hurts. I need you _now_," Mike breathed.

"Oh, Mikey…" Chris couldn't possibly say no to that. Mike looked so hot lying there, just begging for it… he started to slick himself up. It was hard to resist the urge to just get himself off and cum all over that beautiful body, but he knew he was in for something better. He positioned himself at Mike's entrance and slid into him as slowly and gently as he could. Mike squinted and inhaled through his teeth. "Too much?"

"No… just gotta get used to it. Damn… feels so hot… ow."

"If it really hurts, we can stop," Chris said.

" 'S okay… it hurts good," Mike said.

Chris held himself still inside of Mike, feeling himself throb and Mike's walls tighten around him… buried deep inside that warmth… "Move," Mike said. "I'm okay now… please… fuck me hard."

"Mike, I really don't want to hurt you," Chris said. "You're so damn tight…"

"Come on, Jericho," Mike said, a smug look on his face—using his promo voice. "What's the matter, am I not awesome enough for you? Or are you just afraid I'll find out you're not really the best in the world at what you do?"

So that was how Mike wanted to play. Well, two could play at that game. "Miz, would you please just shut the hell up?" Chris said, getting into character himself. "You can wear the fancy suits, you can get all the endorsements, you can try your damnedest to be me… but at the end of the day, there's only one Chris Jericho. You want a piece of the Sexy Beast, Mizzy? I'll give you more than you bargained for." He thrust hard into Mike.

"Fuck!" Mike shouted. Tears formed at his eyes but he blinked them away. Yes, it hurt… in fact, it hurt like hell. But at the same time, it felt so damn good… Chris hit his spot and he yelped. Chris' cock was so hot it felt like a firebrand in his ass, lube or not. "Fuck, Chris… that's it, fuck me… tear me up… I'm all yours, baby."

"Mine," Chris growled. "All mine." He kissed Mike, their tongues intertwining as Mike wrapped his strong legs around Chris, wanting to feel him so deep… Chris was pounding him hard and fast, moving his hips like he was a machine.

"Godddd… mmph… AAH! Fuck… faster… so close... oh god… OH! Chrissy!" Mike's cum shot out of him, getting all over both their stomachs. Chris thrust into him one more time before he exploded in Mike's ass, filling him with his seed. Both panting and flushed, they were completely out of words… at least for a few seconds, until Mike found his way back to earth. "Damn… Chris…"

"I didn't go overboard, did I? With the Sexy Beast stuff and whatever."

"That was fucking hot, actually," Mike said. "Except, you don't really think I try too hard to be like you, do you?"

"I'd just say I've rubbed off on you," Chris said.

"Oh, you've done more than that," Mike said wickedly.

"Mikey?"

"What?"

"Shut up." Chris smiled.


End file.
